2024.08.24: Randy and Gavin visit the Green Lion
Pulling up to the coffeehouse is an older model green Jeep Wrangler. It parks without much effort involved. Stepping out of the car is a man wearing a black polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts. He has five o'clock shadow all over his face and his hair looks like it never has seen a brush, otherwise he is clean. He is wearing black hiking boots as he makes his way to the coffee house. With the university fully back in session, the coffee house is full of college students and professors doing what they do best. There is a generalized hum of conversation, pleasant background noise rather than oppressive. At least one of the dudes on laptops is probably a "nice guy" who says "milady" unironically and undoubtedly needs punched five or six times in the throat for the good of society. Behind the counter is a brunette woman in lowkey Corporate Goth and a tall dark-haired gentleman, ditto. Even in the heat, the guy's sleeves aren't rolled very far up his forearms. Just the bare minimum to be fashionable. Randy enters and looks around and heads to the counter taking a seat. He does not wear a douchey hat like the other people that like wearing douchey hats. When he gets to the counter he flags down one of the people behind the counter who gives just enough disdain for those around them. The dude grins a friendly Customer Service grin. "What can I get for you?" Surprisingly Midwestern. "Some type of Energy drink if you have it, I was also told to ask for Cheryl." "This is a coffee shop, not a seven eleven." The "peasant" is silent. The brunette eyes the stubbly hot mess in front of her. "Told by who?" she asks warily. "Yes well coffee shops brew up things that give energy. I've been in Starsmucks before," Randy said, "I'm here representing Verbal Beatdown Dot Org. The name was given to me by the director Andrew Kinson, who got your name through one of his contacts. I'm Randy Donovan Technology director." "Well, Randy Donovan Technology Director, what does your director want with a coffeehouse owner?" The name does not register with Cheryl whatsoever. She also sounds Midwestern. The guy starts doing...something that probably involves coffee. "It's a short term project actually. We're currently working on setting up our headquarters which requires coordinating people to deal with the heavy lifting so to speak. At least have someone to coordinate the heavy lifting. I can't do that and deal with all of the technological aspects of the company with the updated security and technological needs." "...who sent you?" Cheryl seems even more wary and skeptical. Randy takes out his phone and scrolls, "It looks like you were recommended by a Doris Ashview?" "Oh. Her. Okay. That makes sense." A mug of...something...is set on the bar. It smells...potent. There is not much room for cream or sugar. The gentleman barista folds his arms and Looms behind Cheryl. "So you need a temporary office manager?" he asks. "Less an office manager and more a foreman that can deal with office construction and organization, so to speak for now. I wouldn't be surprised if your expertise would be used to help with the hiring of other major staffing decisions after we get everything up and put together. I know that other creative directors are going to be hired in the future. You own your own business so I don't see you running this as an additional full time gig." Randy sips the mug of something as if he no longer has taste buds. There is elaborate and withering disapproval of the treatment of the beverage. Cheryl picks up the conversation. "So she told your boss to come find me because you need someone who can handle dayshift stuff?" "Yes." "Your boss have an eating disorder?" Oblique. Cheryl lowers her voice. "Technically no but he tends to favor a liquid lunch for most of his meals. You know how these on the go types can be." He nods in her direction to confirm exactly what she's trying to ask. She nods as well. "I might know a couple of people. Your boss have a card?" "You're primarily going to be dealing with me because I'm going to be the one that is on site during the day," Randy gives her a card with his contact info on it, "This hire is actually at my request. The address is there with my contact information. I hand him the check book and he just signs the checks." "All right. I'll get back to you." Another nod. "Good," Randy finishes the drink, rather quickly. Not savoring it but basically treating it like it is fuel. He takes out a 50 and leaves it, looking at the looming Barista, "Thanks for the drink. You are right though I'm probably best dealt with at a Circle K." Randy nods to Cheryl, "Talk to you soon." Randy stands up and heads to the door. "...where is he from that he knows what a Circle K is?" The cash is vanished into the register without questions. Gavin walks in, because having been specifically told not to touch a coffeehouse, he is going to be drinking a lot of coffee tonight. He walks up to the counter and smiles pleasantly. “Evening. I will have... a large vanilla chai latte. Ideally with cinnamon on the foam. And you have Wi-fi?” The tall, dark-haired, blue eyed Corporate Goth guy behind the counter grins. "Sure! And yeah, everywhere here has wifi. Password's on the board." He jerks a thumb at the menu board, which is the expectedly kitschy chalkboard. The little brunette smirks and heads for the door marked "Office." Gavin’s eyes flick up and he smiles. “Excellent. Nice to find somewhere that stays open late. Especially providing caffeine. Because that can’t be a bad combination... "We opened it to ensure kids from the college had somewhere to go to study that was safe. We don't open before noon. As you can see, it works." He pauses in his chai latte making to gesture vaguely at the full coffeehouse. People ranging from Sheridan's apparent age on through potentially emeritus professors fill the space. "You just starting this semester?" “Yeah,” he nods, turning to scan the room, looking at faces, actions, gestures. “Electives, mostly. Sometimes more directed study. I dare say I’ll be a regular. You the owner?” "Co-owner. Cheryl's the one on the lease." He indicates the office door. Gavin nods, and glances briefly down to check if the man has a name badge. “Nice place,” he says, eyes continuing to drift over the patrons. “In fact, the whole city seems pretty nice. I was just at this little piano bar. The singer’s got one hell of a voice.” "Miss Doris? Yeah. We've known her for a while. Nice lady. Bit of a hardass." The vanilla chai latte, cinnamon garnish, is pushed across the counter. Gavin takes his order, and fiddles in his pocket for change. He pays in beaten notes and coins. “I bet,” he says. “But she can sing.” He nods to himself, and takes his cup. Then he slips into a corner, and continues to people watch. Scanning. Listening to conversations without even trying. Eavesdropping even as he plays with his phone. The barista helpfully labeled "Madison" frowns slightly and purses his lips. The coffee shop is full of quiet activity. Little study groups, solo studies, that one asshole pretentiously working on a script to harass either the people at Bon Vivant or Shine-Light Studio with but also mostly trawling for girls to pester. The usual. It is incredibly cozy. Safe. Gavin’s Googling is mainly map-related; like he’s scanning over streets and businesses and filing locations away. And occasionally looking up UK football scores, Twitter and lyrics to Pat Benatar songs. He is mostly left to his own devices. A few people glance curiously his way now and then, but this is an introvert's paradise. Gavin quietly finishes his latte, smiles and puts some change in the tip jar before walking out. A few minutes later, a young Korean-American woman, pretty with a streak of red dyed through jet black hair tied in a ponytail, walks in wearing a New Albion University top. She quietly orders a cup of coffee to go, and starts to make her way out before stopping at the pretentious asshole’s table. “Oh, is that, like, a play you’re writing?” she asks, glancing over his shoulder. "Screenplay, yeah." Oh hey, a cute girl. The aura of "I am a pretentious scumbat quote unquote nice guy is somehow tamped down slightly. It might be undetectable to mortals. "I'm a film student." Of course he is. “Oh, awesome! I thought about that as a major. I ended up just focusing on liberal arts. Which is totally not focusing. Maybe we share some classes? I think I’ve seen you around.” "I absolutely know I've seen you. Who could forget that hair?" Lying. At least he doesn't reach for the ponytail. There is a sense of presence nearby. Nonthreatening but there. On standby. The girl laughs, a little faux-bashful, touching it, smiling with perfect white teeth. "Yeah. I just thought "It's college, right? Why not experiment?" My parents would freak. Anyway, I guess I'll see you in class, maybe? I want to get back to my dorm before it's too late." She leaves the thought hanging. "There's been some weird shit vandalism...you shouldn't walk back alone." North Albion and campus are suspiciously safe, both property crime and violent crime well below the national average. Title IX is alive and well at New Albion University...and apparently enforced. Hopefully that is why campus sexual assault incidents are minimal. "Yeah. Probably. My own fault. What kind of vandalism? I've been cramming." She raises the cup. "Breakins. Graffiti." She looks visibly shaken. "Wow." A nervy sip from her to-go americano. "Thanks. Maybe I should text a friend or something." "I should be getting back too. Early class." Friendly. Helpful. She's already got her phone out, about to text, pauses. "Oh, cool. Uh, you want to walk back together? I'm in Shipman." Hall. A name grabbed from Google barely 10 minutes earlier. "Sure." Another friendly grin. The sense of looming increases but remains unobtrusive. She smiles back. This time no teeth, no words just a 'OK, let's go' kind of look as she waits for him to close up his work. And heightens her senses with Auspex. The looming is merely Madison, who mutely inquires as to whether the girl feels safe. The unnamed dude packs up his stuff. She turns, and gives a smile. "Oh, yeah., he's going to walk back with me. We share a class." "You sure?" Reasonble. "It's fine, goth boy." The "fuck off" is silent. She gives a little roll of the eye at the uncalled for rudeness, but it doesn't seem to dissuade her any. "Yeah. Totally. Thanks for asking though." "Okay. Because we can call a Lyft or something?" "She said it's fine." "He's only being helpful," she says to her companion, before turning back to Madison. "It's not far, and I walked here on my own fine. And like I say, we know each other, we can totally buddy system a couple of blocks. Thanks - I'll see you tomorrow." At this point, she turns and heads to the door, not wanting to let the barista's good intentions deprive her of the evening meal. Another tiny frown at the slight shift in character. "Have a good night." "Thanks," she says, waving, before stepping out into the night, huddling a little inside the college top, and using the cup to warm her hands. as she waits for the Nice Guy to come along... With little prompting, he follows her out. Category:Logs